On the Robertson II Trip 2 1992 we found ourselves further north then I had ever been - an infectious spirit had permeated the entire crew and we were all driven to keep on going. To that effect we sailed all night the first 2 nights and were in desolation sound by the 3rd day. A straw poll across the entire boat ended with that unanimous decision to just keep going and see how far we could get before time forced us to turn back. By the fifth day we were at the head of Bute Inlet 50° 50´ North.

The glacier runoff water of the inlet was white with a waxy silt. So much of the water was run-off that the salty content was practically nil and the Robby had sunk about 1´ below her normal waterline. As we reached the head of the inlet the only thing to be seen was a logging camp on the north west shore and we tied up to a log boom with their amused blessing.

The water temperature was only 4° so naturally several of us wanted to go for a swim :) However more to that story later...

Without exception everyone wanted to go ashore and explore this new ´discovery´ as it was widely know that 10 day summer trips rarely (if ever) got this far north. I set off with a troop of intrepid explorers to hike up the bluff and see what was to be seen (see photo) It was a slow climb but interesting - that is, until we got to the top of the bluff - that´s when we heard the shouting...

"Get off my land!" can the grizzled voice from somewhere unseen in the forest accompanied by the sound of something coming crashing through the underbrush "Get off my land!" Several looks of panic were exchanged by everyone in the troop (myself included since I was leading the group of explorers)

"Get off my land you whippersnappers!"

At this point I was really beginning to wonder, but everyone had turned tail at this point (the crashing was clearly getting closer) and was starting back down the bluff - which was easier said then done as it was effectively a 20´ cliff covered in thick brush.

"Get off my land - I´m going to get you!" it was much closer now and several of the members had broken into a run - My mind was thick with options for how to deal with this crazed hermit that was descending upon us with unknown resources at his command.

As several members of our troop nearly fell down the cliff our assailant burst through the bushes at the top of the bluff brandishing a large stick and shouting in his best grizzled voice - relief, embarrassment, and a twinge of anger filled all our being as we all looked up to see Steve Kroker (the first mate) standing, grinning from ear to ear - he had had us all on, caught hook line and sinker - and we all knew it!

I still remember the bite of that cold water!!!  I think we all jumped about 10 feet straight back onto the deck and ran right to the galley to warm up by the stove!!  Both the water and our skin were blue that day!